


Harley Potter and the Older Brother She Didn't Know About

by 20Zvorak17



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Discussion of Past Abuse, Fem!Harry, Gen, Guardian!Dean, Very minor Sam, also the Dursleys to Harley, john to dean and dean to sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-01-28 15:56:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12610224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/20Zvorak17/pseuds/20Zvorak17
Summary: Harley Potter went to Sirius's will-reading and left with the knowledge that she wasn't James's kid.That she had blood relatives who weren't the Dursley's.Also, it means that she isn't the prophecy kid.The Wizarding World can just fuck off.





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mainly set up. I apologize.

"And Harley," the goblin continued in his reading, "I want you to know you're still my goddaughter and I still love you. But it's your right to know, you aren't James's biological daughter. He got really sick in his teen years, dragon pox, and it left him sterile. So, your mum went over to America and found someone who looked a lot like James. His name's John Winchester, if you want to find him." The goblin stopped to roll his eyes, voice going even flatter. "Love you, pup. Ugh, sentiment."

People stood to leave. Dumbledore made a beeline for her. "I owe you a world of apologies, dear girl. I had no idea. If I had, you wouldn't have been left with the Dursleys, I promise you."

"I believe you professor. But I _was_ left there. I'd like to find my real family."

His eyes twinkled, "The goblins can help with that. At a cost, of course."

She huffed a laugh. "Of course. Scrooges, the lot of them."

"I take it you aren't returning to Hogwarts?"

"No," she admitted, "probably not."

"Then," he said grandly, offering his arm, "I suppose it is for the best that the Order taught you everything you could need while I wasn't looking."

He winked and Harley laughed uproariously.

                                                                                 --------------------------------------

A knock sounded at the door, startling Dean who'd been in the process of unlacing his boots. "Can I help you?"

The lady at the door smiled despite his brusque tone. "I'm Amy Viston with MACUSA--the magical government. We're a community of natural-born witches and wizards..."

He slammed the door, the sound of it covering a  _pop_ , not needing to know anything beyond witches. He turned and found himself face to face with her. "Natural-born. We don't make deals with demons. We have magical cores--and more sense than that besides. We initially searched for John Winchester, but he couldn't be found."

"You're telling me there are witches who are born with their magic?"

"Yes." Oh, how she hated dealing with morons.

"No demon deals."

"No, because we aren't idiots."

"Okay, say I believe that. Why are you looking for my father?"

"He has a daughter who is trying to escape an abusive situation. As she's only fifteen, however, she needs someone to take guardianship of her. As we cannot find him, we've gone to his oldest son."

"I can't take custody of a kid."

"Meet her," Amy suggested, "just talk to her. If you decline we'll try, um," she consulted her notes, "Samuel."

"Fine." He conceded. "I'll meet her."

"Excellent! She arrives tomorrow; will you still be here?"

He crinkled one eyebrow. "Do I need to pick her up?"

"Not at all. I can get her to wherever you are so long as I know where that is."

"I'll be here," he confirmed.

                                                                          -----------------------------------------------

Dean hated to admit it, but he was incredibly nervous and a little bit angry. First of all, had Dad KNOWN about this? If he had, how _dare_ __he keep this from them?

 And if not, it was still a betrayal of Dean's mother.

Had Dad known there were natural-born witches? Because that would've been useful information to have. What if there were innocuous versions of other monsters and worse, what if, because Dean hadn't known that, he'd killed innocent creatures?

And what if Harley hated him? He was a bit of an acquired taste, especially if you were in it for the long-haul. Still, he couldn't be worse than the abusive relatives she'd been living with. It'd been nearly half a decade since he'd last been around a sixteen year old. And his only experience with sixteen year old girls had been back in high school, seducing them into a broom closet or, occasionally, his bed. And, oh Lord, he was so not prepared to handle a little sister who was as promiscuous as he had been. What if...

There was a knock on the door.

 


	2. Chapter Two

It'd been two weeks. MACUSA had told her what to expect from...her  _brother_ , that he was a hunter, that he traveled all the time. She hadn't been prepared for the...the  _reflex_ , you know? That older siblings instinct. She could take care of herself just fine but it was like he couldn't help himself.

Like the time they'd been at a gas station. A twenty-some year old had approached her while Dean was inside. He'd honestly been gone longer than anticipated already. Probably, she though rolling her eyes, flirting with the cashier. All she'd wanted was a damn candy bar, but no. Instead she had a decidedly unwelcome would-be suitor. "Hi," he'd said, eyeing her up.

"Hullo," she answered dully, turning her attention back to the phone that Dean had gotten her. She deemed this a clear signal and if he were applying his tenacity to anything else she would surely be impressed.

"I'm Ethan." He was obviously waiting for her to return the courtesy, as though she _owed_ him her name.

"Pleasure," she deadpanned, moments before Dean threatened the man.

"Back off," he'd snarled at the interloper, "she's fifteen and if you don't get lost you'll have a bullet through each of your damn feet."

(Ironically, months later, before Dean can introduce her, Sam will voice the same indignation to Dean.)

She's come to realize he's protective. She has also concluded--to her chagrin because, as much as it feels an injustice to Ron to refer to Dean as her brother, Dean is still her brother--you can't know Dean, really know him, without being a little in love with him. Even Hedwig was not exempt, and even her own self. Not, you know, romantically. She'd been disturbed enough by the inbreeding of the purebloods, who had never gone as close as siblings. Ew. 

Dean had a brother, too--she supposed that meant he was her brother as well--but she hadn't met him yet. Probably wasn't going to, although she knew Dean had informed him of the circumstances. "He, uh, he cut us right out of his life. Might've heard my voice and deleted the message right off," (and, still hurt and furious he _had)_ had been all the explanation she was given. It was a painful memory, she assumed, and since he'd never pressed her to talk about England, she didn't ask him to elaborate.

England--she'd have told him, if he'd asked. Explained that she could defend herself.

"Not to be rude," he had started one night, drunk as Fred and George had been that time that...well, anyway... "but how did you come about?"

This was a delicate matter with a delicate explanation and she had phrased it as gently as she had dared without him getting offended by her pussyfooting. "My Dad," she shook her head, correcting herself, "step-dad, he couldn't have kids. So, my mom found someone that, that  _looked_ like him. From the pictures I've seen of them both, your father really, really does look like my--like James."

And Dean, well of course Dean noticed the number of times she slipped. She didn't consider John Winchester her dad. Then again, she hadn't met him and, from what the representative had shared with him, her stepfather had literally died for her. As much as Dean loved his father, he knew that John couldn't one-up that. Not for a child he barely even knew, his or not.  Indeed, he hadn't returned a single one of Dean's calls  _about_ Harley.

Well, Dean had decided in a fury, it was no skin off his back. After all, he had already raised one child and he could certainly raise another.

Or, he'd though so until the girl had given him a heart attack.

(She was going to make him go gray before he was thirty, Jesus.)

They'd come across a Death Eater. They had known it was a witch, but he hadn't realized it was a natural-born witch. He'd fired his gun anyway, but she twisted on her spot and reappeared somewhere else. He'd had no choice but to rely on Harley. "Expelliarmus!"

"Your filthy muggle companion thought a  _muggle_ weapon would work on me?"

"Big talk for a wandless witch." Harley said, apparating in front of the witch, putting her gun between the Death Eater's eyes. She held her left arm out, the other's wand flying into her hand. "Why don't you put your magic where your mouth is,  _Death Eater?"_

The trapped witch took the proffered wand, steadying herself. Harley cocked the gun. "You're going to try that muggle device on me?"

"I am. And if it doesn't work? I'm going to pistol whip you with the thing. Then I'll stick you on this wildly interesting muggle invention--a Judas board--before I  _crucify you and send a patronus to the Dark Lord!"_

The Dark witch paled, but remained otherwise blank faced. "Protego!"

_Bang!_

"Weak," Harley snorted when her bullet won. "An average witch or wizard could stop a bullet. An extremely powerful one-me, Dumbledore, Voldemort, the entire Black family--can stop anything short of a cannon blast. Waste of magic  _anyway."_

"Geez kid. Maybe don't do that next time? I about had a heart attack."

She grinned cheekily, twirled her wand and made no promises.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

"Hedwig!" Harley squeals.

"Friend of yours?" Dean asks gruffly.

"Yes," is the sincere answer. She's got this grin on her face and Dean, instead of teasing that he'd been about to shoot the bird for harassing him, asks her how she got Hedwig instead.

"Hagrid gave her to me when he took me to Diagon Alley," she recalls, tone fond, "she was my very first birthday present."

That didn't seem right to Dean. Although Dean liked to think that Harley was happy here; that perhaps she wanted to be here, it had been made clear from the start that Harley was primarily here so she didn't have to be in an abusive situation  _there_. However it seemed to go past what he had anticipated. John, for example, had been a heavy-handed drunk but birthdays had always been celebrated. Maybe a little early, maybe a little late, maybe it was just a dropped off present; they had at least been acknowledged in the Winchester household. Apparently Harley had also been neglected.

"When...did Hagrid take ya to Diagon Alley?"

"The day I turned eleven," she answered promptly, the words almost tripping over each other as they came off her tongue. A frown overtook her features, "I met Quirrelmort that day, too."

"Uh."

"Yes, Dean?"

"What the hell is a Quirrelmort?"

"Quirinus Quirrel possessed by Voldemort."

Unable to fathom two despicable souls in such proximity to his baby sister, Dean has to protest, "Possessed in what way? Because not all possessions are voluntary--in fact most of them..."

"In the way that Voldemort was on the back of Quirrel's head and Quirrel admitted to me he'd agreed to it. And if he hadn't, there's stil the thing where he was drinking unicorn blood."

Dean's reaction is the last thing she expected, "You don't mean that unicorns are  _real?_ " He looks so damn distraught that Harley almost giggles.

 But before that, " _That's_ your takeaway?"

 "I understand about monsters and it sounds like that's what this Voldemort guy is. So, no, that part does not surprise me. And demons possess people, so."

"Speaking of things you know and therefore your upbringing and consequently your childhood...I have another brother, right?"

"Yeah." Dean says flatly and Harley does not press.

"I want...I want you to teach me how to hunt," she blurts, way out of left field; her only answer is a raised eyebrows so she rushes on, "I know I did okay with the witch but I knew how to handle her because one, she's got the same tricks _I do_ , two I've been doing it for years and three I'm just better than she was--but that wasn't one of your monsters. I'd like to be, you know,  _capable_."

"Surely you could use your magic, though-"

"And if my wand breaks? If it gets taken from me and I can't retrieve it? I'd be really buggered, Dean."

"Okay," he relents, one hand waving, directionless, "we'll settle for a bit while I get you trained."

* * *

 

Her brother is a taskmaster, that's for sure. He's gentler with her than their dad had been with him, she's sure of that, but she's as tired as the occlumency lessons had ever left her and achy as hell besides. They'd both predicted she'd be a half-decent shot, aim being so important in dueling. Frankly, they'd been terribly, terribly wrong. It soon became clear that, no matter how hard the Order had worked her in wand-work, with a firearm she couldn't hit the broad side of a barn.

From the inside.

Still, this was the girl who'd learned how to cast a corporeal Patronus at thirteen, had stopped Voldemort's resurrection at eleven; gone to the Chamber of Secrets at twelve. She hadn't ceased in her truth-telling no matter what Umbridge had done to her.

Harley could accomplish just about anything through sheer goddamn stubbornness and force of will.

It takes seven consecutive eight hour days before she finally begins to consistently hit the target, but once she has it she doesn't miss again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween and so, so much parent Dean

"HARLEY--" Dean sighs, "what is your middle name?"

"Amaryllis." She answers hesitantly.

Dean mouths her full name to himself before deciding against the addition. "HARLEY POTTER WINCHESTER WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?!"

"Jake suggested it," she says, petulantly, of her Halloween costume. 

"Of course he did." He answers through gritted teeth.  _No guy friends allowed at the next school,_ he thinks to himself.

"It's clever. You know my name is Harley, my costume is Harley Quinn." It's clever on this Jake's part, true enough, because not only has he appealed to Harley's sense of irony he's convinced her to be wearing a crop top and barely existent shorts. Because  _of course_ she couldn't wear the red and black full body suit comic book Harley appears in, oh no.  _Of course_ the costume is Suicide Squad Harley.

"I hate to be the one to tell you," Dean says in a measured voice, barely resisting the urge to smack his own forehead, "but he just wanted to see you in a slutty outfit."

"He thought it was clever, that's all. You don't realize that because you don't know him, but--"

"Oh, please, I _was_ him!"

"I'm not..."

"Harley, you're a really pretty girl and I know Jake is your  _friend,_ " Dean treads carefully, "but he's a seventeen year old boy."

"Hermione would've seen right through him," She admits, slumping. "I'm no good at people."

"How did you pay for it?" He asks after a few minutes of quiet.

"Well..."

" _Tell_ me you did not take a five finger discount. Please, please tell me that you _didn't_ jack the costume."

"Of course not. I studied pictures and magicked it." Oh, good. Much better.

"Aren't there rules about that?"

"In America, as long as you've taken your fifth year exams you can use magic. Besides, you weren't too concerned about what the rules were when I took out that Death Eater witch bitch Bulstrode."

"Okay, first of all," he says in the ultimate Dad voice, "I do not like that you've had enough run-ins with Death Eaters to know them by name. Second of all, I do not like that you've had the sort of life that has you so comfortable with that. And third, magic up something  _else._ "

"I should be able to wear whatever I want..."

"Yes, you should! But there are too many creeps who would try to justify hurting you in court based on that outfit and the whole legal system is so incompetent it would probably work. So, no. So, here's your choices--no or you aren't going to this party."

"Sirius would've let me!" They both stand there for a second, silently. Harley flushes in shame but stands her ground.

Dean's jaw tics as his lips press together, and it's pretty clear that she's crossed a line. And now he's going to do what he always does when he's hurt. He's going to lash out. "Maybe, but guess what? Sirius is dead, you're here and _I said go change!"_

She marches off, still muttering. "Unfair...loads of effort...worse than Snape and Malfoy together..."

* * *

 

She calls him for a ride, drunk as all hell, probably out of pure spite. This is his penance for his teenage years, it must be, because if he hasn't actually done something to deserve this then screw the universe. He wonders if this is how John always felt. 

She makes him go into the house to get her and he's tempted to make her kneel in grits like a naughty child as John had sometimes done for a particularly egregious offense, especially since she's drinking when he'd told her not to and in the middle of a beer now, but he's not completely sure if this warrants that. He does, however, steer her out with a hand on the back of her neck, his tight grip a message in itself.

"Dean..." she says when Dean pulls onto the road.

"Nope. I'm going to talk. I shouldn't have said what I said about Sirius but neither should you've. I'm guessing here and I'm terrified, but I am doing my best and I am just trying to keep you safe. I told you not to drink. I didn't just say 'I'd prefer you not drink'. It was an actual condition of you going to this damn party. Which means no parties for the foreseeable future. No friends, either. School and then back to the motel and that's it."

Even drunk-and why had she done that anyway? She hated alcohol of any kind, always having seen a worse side of Uncle Vernon for it-she knows that's fair. Still when she says, "Yes, sir," it chafes.

He'd rather not admit it, but it bothers him, too. A lifetime of saying 'Yes, sir' to his dad-their dad-had fostered a particular distaste for the words. Worse still, it had always been meant to hurt when Sam had directed the words at him. 

"You don't have to call me sir, Harley."

"Habit."

Habit. Because of Dursley. She had answered him as if he were her brutish uncle. That hurts like a bitch.

And the one lone finger-shaped bruise on the back of her neck? It makes him cry like a friggin' girl

 


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey, listen. We're kind of low on money. I'm going to go hit a bar and hustle some pool but I need you to stay here."

Instantly displeased, Harley had to argue, "If we're low on money we can just go to Gringotts. I have more money than I know what to do with."

"No. I am the adult and I will take care of the money."Dean. I have so much money that my children and my children's children and theirs could never work a day."

"Harley. Please just let me do this." It's his voice that convinces here, it's the realization that Dean _needs_ to be the responsible one,  _needs_ to take care of somebody.

"Fine, but I'm so bored. Can't I come with you?"

"Let me rephrase. I'm going to hit up a  _skeezy_ bar."

"I can handle myself, Dean."

"I can't focus if I'm worried about you."

"Can I at least leave the room?" She tried to negotiate, aware that if they needed money, Dean needed to be on his game.

"Absolutely not!"

"Why?"

"Because we are on the bad side of town." He pushed on when it looked like she was going to continue to argue. "Look, what I mean is you don't look a day over sixteen and we're on the side of town where I promise you the clerk doesn't believe you're my sister and yet he didn't say a damn thing. Do not leave this room."

She's gaping but she manages a nod.

"Thank you," he says. "Be back in a couple of hours. "

Apparently, Harley thinks grimly five hours later, they have different definitions of 'a couple'.

* * *

 

 "Hey, kid," Dean said, closing the hotel door behind him, resisting the urge to whistle since he now knew what he was hunting and it was harmless enough that, if she wanted, Harley could come, too. 

"Brother." She answers, entirely out of character and this side of too cheerful. 

"Huh."

She narrow her eyes, but maintains a smile and it's sort of disconcerting. "What is it?"

"...I can't tell if you're gleeful or pissed."

"Not sure, either."

They haven't even started really talking and Dean is already not enthused. "What happened?"

"Well, you know how I had that date the other night."

He could feel himself getting furious, if some boy had done something to Harley... "You said it went well."

"I didn't want you to overreact. Besides I handled it."

"Did you rip his lungs out? Because if not, I will."

"Better."

 THAT MORNING

 

"You really sleep with Kyle?" Maria Rodriguez asked her casually, eyes on her reflection in the mirror as she applied makeup next to where Harley was washing her hands. Maria wasn't a friend, not quite, but they were near enough to it that it was only slightly offensive for her to ask.

"That what he's saying?" Harley turned to the paper towel dispenser, mouth tightening.

"It's all over school." 

A brilliant idea occurred to Harley then. It was clear she had two choices. One-tell the truth to Maria, a humongous gossip, and not be believed. Two-tell Maria a lie and ruin what remained of his high school experience. She grinned--truly the look a Marauder most vengeful--and Maria, who caught the expression, rather thought that she had seen a cat smile like that once.

"Kind of. I almost turned him down. It was kind of uncomfortable. I mean...what seventeen year old guy asks to be pegged with a 12 inch strap-on on the first date right? But as it turned out, he liked taking it up the ass and I liked being called ma'am. Unfortunately, he only lasted for, like five minutes, which isn't really his fault--the prostate gland is a pleasure spot, according to him, so..." Maria's jaw had been gradually dropping until it was almost an impression of the Duncan drop-jaw. Harley pretends to misinterpret the look. "Apparently all of his skin mags said so. Look, he asked me not to tell anyone so only people you trust okay?"

"Sure," Maria said, halfway to bursting as she hustled to the door, "of course."

The grin on Harley's face turned feral. 

 

PRESENT

"I'm not sure whether to be proud of you or furious with that little punk." Dean says after several moments of silence. 

"And thus you understand my dilemma."

"I think I'm going with proud. Wanna go kill a black dog?"

 


	6. Chapter Six

He's not  _proud_ of it, but he knows if Sam had pulled this stunt--leaving the room on the bad side of town all alone and then screaming at him, especially after the day he's had--he'd have taken it out of his hide. Age and distance from John have given him some perspective and so, instead of the open-palmed, backhanded swing his right hand is twitching for, he confiscates her wand. 

"I'm going to take a shower and when I get out we're going to talk calmly and rationally and _every time you yell_ , that's another week without your wand."

In the shower, he punches the tile wall, feels better and hates himself for it. (Hates himself less than he ever had on the rare occasion of laying Sammy out flat, though.)

He slides the wand through his belt loops before exiting the bathroom. 

"We've talked about this, Harley, you walking around alone when it's gettin' dark. Why did you possibly think this was a good idea?"

"I got bored." She answers sullenly, looks unsure and the steamrolls ahead, "And I  _really_ think it's unfair. I can take care of myself, for one thing. You leave me alone for days at a time sometimes," she leaves out that she's had to hit Gringott's twice in the five months she's been here, "and I've done fine each time. If you're truly that concerned then let me go to Gringotts and I don't have to be on the bad side of town. I couldn't run out of money if I tried."

"Alright," he concedes, "but for now...what's a good punishment?"

"The Dursleys locked me into my room and starved me," she shrugged, "I wouldn't know. What if Sam had done this?"

Dean knows the answer to that, but he's not telling her. "You'll add one extra mile on your run for two weeks," he decrees, "and..." He must voice goes to muttering, "You'll show me how to get to Gringotts. And you're doing all the digging on tonight's salt and burn," he swatted at her feet.

"But there are two spirits!"

"Yep."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter, the famous Potter temper appears


End file.
